


Charles' and Erik's Excellent Adventure

by crescentmoonthemage



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Cherik - Freeform, Crescent Writes A Fic, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik has Feelings, Erik is a Shark, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, I Really Love These Tags, M/M, No But Look At This, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentmoonthemage/pseuds/crescentmoonthemage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We've all seen X Men First Class, and we've all seen Erik and Charles go on a big, mutant-recruiting adventure. But what actually happens on said adventure? Featuring drunk!Charles and shark!Erik and cocky!Erik and sassy!Charles. Welcome to Erik and Charles's Excellent Adventure!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Charles Is Infatuated

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Tumblr. This is probably very un-canon, but it fits in the plot, so I'll call it good. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but 3000 words later and I'm not even close to being done. If you have any questions, feel free to comment, or follow me on Tumblr, my Tumblr is sherlawkneedshisjawn. Love you guys!
> 
> \--CM

Charles wasn't quite sure if he was looking forward to it. I mean, he'd just met Erik Lehnsherr literally the day before yesterday, and now they were going on a two-man road trip to find mutants, probably draining up all the CIA's funds for gas and hotels. He wasn't even sure if he _liked_ Erik. He was willing to extend trust, but the guy had a serious personal vendetta issue that would probably get him killed or blow up a city in the process. 

 

Charles did have to admit, he was really hot. Not just hot, even though he was  _bloody_ sexy, he was also kind of endearingly adorable, with eyes like silver clouds, hair that was so perfect it made you want to mess it up, and a taste for leather. Not to mention then when the guy grinned, it was one of those really huge, uneven, face-splitting grins that just made you want to kiss it off, and a wit sharper then a knife. 

 

So you could say Charles was infatuated.

 

He wanted to tell himself that Erik Lehnsherr meant nothing, that he didn't deserve trust or friendship, but Charles knew he was wrong in that aspect. And Erik was so  _damn_ attractive it was hard not to want to give him everything. Honestly, he was glad the man wasn't a telepath, because he'd probably be nosing in Charles's mind quite a bit more then was necessary, and dozens of thoughts and images concerning the dark-haired man bounced through his brain as it was. Having a maddeningly sexy voice in his thoughts probably wouldn't help either.

 

For his part, Charles had stayed out of the other man's mind, wanting, yet not-quite-wanting to know what Erik thought about all day.  _Probably not me,_ he convinced himself.  _I'm just an annoying grad student with a PhD in Genetic Biology, and a telepath. What's so fascinating about Charles Xavier?_

 

He was still musing what was fascinating about himself, (so far he hadn't found a single thing) late in the afternoon. His duffel bag sat packed, his bed was made, and he was still not sure whether he actually wanted to go on a roadtrip with a mysterious man he'd just met. But he had heard that traveling takes away some blocks and helps people know each other better. And Charles wanted so much to know Erik better. He concentrated on that fact while unzipping and rezipping his duffel, trying half-hardheartedly to find something else to put in it.

 

There was a sudden knock on the door. It took Charles a moment to realize it, lost as he was in his thoughts. “Come in!” he called. The door opened to admit a walking distraction. Erik had on the same clothes as he had at lunch, when Charles had last seen him, but he found himself staring at them all the same. “Erik,” he finally managed. “What's the occasion?”

 

“I was just coming to make sure everyone's favorite Professor didn't forget his toothbrush.” came the cool answer, but Erik said it with a hint of a smirk.

 

“How did you figure out that I was a Professor?” Charles asked, fascinated now.

 

“Maybe I'm a telepath too.”

 

“You're not!” said Charles in disbelief.

 

“You're right. I'm not. Raven told me earlier, when I asked about you.”

 

Charles quirked an eyebrow, trying to stop the heat rising to his cheeks. “What else did she tell you?”

 

“That you have a PhD in adorable.”

 

_Okay, now you're just teasing._ “And?” he asked.

 

“I agree wholeheartedly.”

 

Charles knew that he was blushing now, but he covered it up as best he could.  _God, this really isn't fair. By the end of this roadtrip, I'll either be dead of annoyance or of sex overload._ “Thank you, I suppose?”

 

“I also brought you some U.S maps, didn't know if you had them. And Moira gave me the coordinates, along with CIA badges, cash, car keys, and 15 plane tickets. We have over thirty names on this list, I suppose we pick and choose.”

 

Charles nodded. “What time do you want to leave in the morning?”

 

“I'm an early riser, so say, 8? We can get a fresh start on the day.”

 

“Works for me.”

 

“Oh, and Moira says that dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

 

“Groovy.” replied Charles. He waited for the other man to say something, but there was only silence. When he looked up, Erik Lehnsherr was gone and the door was closed. 

 

An hour, a hamburger, and a glass of whiskey later, Charles was completely prepared to go to bed. Not like he had any intention of sleeping. He was far too preoccupied for that. Surprisingly, he was more tired then he seemed, or perhaps that was just the alcohol talking. Shame. Charles had always been something of a lightweight. Saying his goodnight to Moira and wondering where Erik had gotten to, he retreated upstairs.

 

The sky was fully dark even though it was only half-past nine. Charles walked in his room, strangely, the door was open, though he had not left it that way, and on top of his freshly packed duffel was a toothbrush. Charles smiled, he couldn't help himself. 

 

Putting the toothbrush in his bag and tossing the bag into a corner, he got a book off of his shelf and climbed into bed, reading the night away. At about a quarter to midnight, he closed the book somewhere near the end and turned the lights out. He had been lying down only five minutes when an exclamation of fear and pain shot through his mind. He sat up in bed, confused, for those weren't his thoughts. He realized after a moment that they were Erik's, the other man trapped in a nightmare. 

 

He got out of bed, padding down the hall to Erik's bedroom at the other end. Opening the door softly, he could see Erik in the throes of a dream, sweat on his forehead, arms tangled in the sheets. Charles stared at him for a moment, this man, usually so guarded, at his most vulnerable. 

 

_Erik,_ he said, in his mind. Pain and fear and anger were still blossoming in his thoughts, the other man locked in a deadly nightmare. 

 

_Erik,_ Charles said again. The other man stirred, lightly, but did not wake. Charles cautiously walked up, touching Erik on the shoulder. “Erik, wake up. Erik!” Suddenly, there was a loud yell, and Erik was wide awake, pressing a knife to Charles's neck. His forehead was beaded in sweat, and his teeth were clenched. “Erik,” gasped Charles. “Erik, it's me!”

 

Erik pressed the knife closer to his neck, staring at him but not seeing, before sighing and putting the knife on the bedside table. “What the fuck are you doing, Charles?”

 

“I heard you, in my mind. You were having a nightmare.”

 

“I thought you were Shaw, Charles. I was ready to kill you.”

 

“I'm sorry, I just thought it would be better to wake you then to let you dream, because whatever you were dreaming about, it wasn't nice.”

 

“No, it wasn't,” Erik agreed, slumping down onto the bed. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Charles intoned, feeling a bit guilty.

 

“Never try to wake me up again, unless in your mind, from your own room.”

 

“I trust you, though. You won't hurt me,” said Charles, hoping desperately that he was right.

 

“Never again,” growled Erik, lying down on the bed, away from Charles.

 

“Good night, Erik,” said Charles softly, backing out and gently closing the door. He walked down the dark hall too quickly to hear the whispered: “Good night,” from inside.

 

…......

 

The next morning, Charles awoke to pale light streaming through the curtains. He rolled over, peering at his clock. 6:27, three minutes before his alarm was due to ring. He shut it off and reluctantly rolled out from the cozy confines of his warm bed, and stumbling straight into the cozy, if a bit more wet, confines of a hot shower.

 

Half an hour later, he was standing in front of the mirror, feeling decidedly more awake and trying to make sure that his hair wasn't a complete mess. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on his bedroom door and he jumped, accidentally squirting a blob of hair gel on to his forehead. The person outside knocked again. “Hang on!” he shouted, grabbing a pair of pants off the floor and buttoning them quickly, before opening the door and fervently wishing that it was Raven outside, or even Moira.

 

Of course, it had to be Erik standing outside, looking impeccably sexy, as ever. One of his eyebrows quirked at the sight of half-dressed Charles, and gray eyes roamed for a moment or so before flicking up to meet Charles's. “Breakfast in fifteen,” he said, before walking off down the hall.

 

Charles sighed, about to scrub a hand through his hair before he realized that he was still covered in hair gel.

 

A few minutes later, his hair was tugged into place, yet still fluffy as ever, and he had found suitable clothes to wear. He finished tying his shoe and journeyed downstairs to breakfast. Erik was already at the table in the common room, sipping a mug of something and staring half-hardheartedly at a biscuit.   
“Morning,” Charles offered, sliding into the chair across from him.

 

“You scrub up nicely,” Erik commented, without sparing him a glance. His nervous fingers were still toying with the biscuit. 

 

“You haven't even looked at me!” Charles complained.

 

“You've come down to breakfast, though. So you must have at least put on a shirt and got all of that goop off of your forehead.”

 

“I'm sure you use gel too. Probably even more then me.”

 

This earned him a biscuit flying at his head. Charles deftly caught it and took a large bite out of it, devouring it. “I was going to eat that, you know,” commented Erik. “Then you shouldn't have thrown it at me,” laughed Charles. He reached for another one, buttering it. Even though he wasn't looking, he could feel Erik, rolling his eyes. Charles smiled. 

 

An hour later, they were ready to leave. Upon seeing the vintage red Mustang in the drive, Erik grinned evilly. “This'll be fun.”

 

Charles sighed, he was regretting this already. He chucked his bag in the trunk and looked at the map, comparing it to the sheets of coordinates that had come, miraculously so, out of his own brain. He circled Chicago, an area in the middle of Ohio, Denver, Colorado, New York City, and the south end of Florida, to name a few. They were going to have a very long trip.

 

Erik got in the driver's seat, and Charles, saying a hasty goodbye to Moira, followed suit. The car rolled down the drive, onto the street, and into the world. Within half an hour, they had left the streets of Langley behind and were driving in open countryside. Erik had rolled the window down, and was sitting with one hand on the window-sill and the other lazily steering the car. 

 

“Stop driving with your mutation,” Charles complained. “It's not safe.”

 

“Are you jealous?” asked Erik, affording Charles a slow blink and a lazy grin.

 

“No, my power is way cooler then yours.”

 

“Oh really? I'll take that bet.”

 

“At least it'll be more interesting then I-Spy,” commented Charles, staring at the map not because he needed direction, but so he could escape the sight of Erik's gorgeously tanned arm and his hair rippling in the breeze. 

 

“I spy with my little eye... an uncool power,” said Erik drily.

 

“How can you see it if it's yours?” asked Charles.

 

This made Erik laugh, a maddeningly infectious laugh that made Charles want to pull every stupid joke and every cheesy pickup line out of his arsenal and use them, if only to hear that laugh again.

 

It was going to be a long trip.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I Spy with my little eye... another chapter!
> 
> \--CM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics is Charles's thoughts/telepathic messages. 
> 
> \--CM

Once I Spy had been exhausted, the car ride quickly grew boring. Charles soon found (who would have guessed) that Erik was not one for sharing his feelings. It was only noon, and it seemed like they had been driving for days.

 

Erik had stopped manually driving hours ago and was solving a Rubik's Cube while controlling the car with his powers. Charles had tried to convince him that driving with no hands was dangerous and illegal, but no amount of persuasion could sway Erik, so Charles sated himself with intently staring at the road instead.

 

They were a few miles outside of South Carolina. The first of their coordinates pointed to the very southern end of the state, so that's where they would be on the morrow. Charles took his eyes off of the very straight, very empty, and very _boring_ road, and allowed himself some thought.

 

He didn't even realize that he had dozed off until he opened his eyes and the sun was low in the sky. Erik was now manually driving again, (thank goodness) and was pulling into a gas station. There was a loud grumbling noise, and with some embarrassment, Charles realized that it was his stomach. He grinned sheepishly at Erik, who was turning the car off and gathering trash from the back seat. “You ate lunch without me!” said Charles. Erik's only response was a wolfish grin.

 

“Sleeping Beauty needs her rest,” laughed Erik coyly.

 

“Please tell me you didn't try to kiss me,” Charles miffed. _Though that's exactly what I want._ Erik only grinned, the wolfish grin morphing into one like that of a shark, before his face went completely straight, no expression visible at all. “Why would I do that?” he retorted, although it seemed more of a question to himself, rather then Charles.

 

Charles got out of the car and retreated into the gas station, trying to put all thoughts of that awkward conversation out of his mind. “You're projecting,” came a loud voice from behind him.

 

“God damn it,” he cursed. Erik's only response was breathless laughter.

 

The gas station was surprisingly large and airy for how dingy it looked on the outside. Charles browsed the aisles, grabbing a Coke, a bag of crisps, and a packet of some cupcake-things that he didn't need but got anyway. Erik joined him at the checkout, with what looked like some cheesy South Carolina hat. When he saw Charles looking at it, the shark grin made a reappearance. “What are road trips for if not to buy your friends stupid, expensive souvenirs?” The grin overtook his whole face, and he slammed the hat onto Charles's head, laughing.

 

“Are you two married?” asked the innocent cashier, smiling. Charles was about to tell her that _no, of course we're not but I think I'm in love with him even though he's my sort of homicidal best friend who happens to be a mutant and is really hot,_ but Erik answered first: “We're on our honeymoon,” he proclaimed, pressing a kiss to Charles's cheek like any proud husband. Charles could feel his face getting red and wished fervently for the mutant power to turn invisible. 

 

The cashier just smiled at them. “Have a good honeymoon,” she exclaimed, waving at them as they walked off, Erik slinging an arm around Charles and smiling as cordially as he possibly could, while Charles probably looked ready to murder a puppy. They got in the car, and somehow Charles ended up in the drivers seat, trying not to fume. “What are you doing?” he asked.

 

Erik stuck his nose in the air with all of pompousness he could muster. “Taking the logical course of action.”

 

Charles tried not to laugh. “It's okay, I was just shocked.”

 

There was that wolfish grin again. “I didn't guess.”

 

Charles started the car, and realized one big misstep. “I don't know how to drive a stick.”

 

This prompted that infectious laugh from Erik again. “You're the genius, you figure it out.”

 

Narrowly missing crashing into the gas station, Charles _finally_ managed to jerkily pull out of the parking lot. He could hear Erik's breathless, deep laughter which was certainlyhelping his concentration. _Oh_ _yes it was definitely helping to hea_ r _very sexy laughter in my ears oh my god it's not fair and wow this is really not cool why must I be suffering through this and- OH SHIT I'M IN THE WRONG LANE HOLY HELL THIS IS NOT GROOVY AND-_

 

“Charles, you're projecting,” laughed Erik. Charles shot him a bloodcurdling stare, and in taking his eyes off the road, nearly veered off the embankment. He could hear Erik laughing yet again, and he scowled, keeping his eyes on the highway.

 

They drove in silence for an hour or so, Charles intently keeping his eyes on the road and doing his best to shift gears smoothy. He could hear Erik clearing his throat. “Motel's next exit,” he announced. Charles shifted lanes and exited the highway. He turned into a parking lot in front of a shabbily painted building with a glowing neon sign.

 

_Think there's room service?_ he asked sarcastically. Erik grinned. “Extra hair on my sheets, please!”

 

They locked the car and got out. Charles laughed when he realized that there was no office, just a key stuck in the door of their appointed room. Inside was a grungy room with a stained carpet and only one bed.  _Wait, only one bed? Shit._

He could practically hear the dread and apprehension reverberating in waves from the man beside him. “Well, this'll be fun,” he murmured. Charles wasn't quite sure what to feel- disappointed, relieved, or a mix of them. He decided to push those unpleasant feelings until after they'd found some dinner. And so the two men locked the motel room and walked down the street, each lost in their own thoughts. A block of tension which had not existed fifteen minutes before had suddenly appeared, and Charles could nearly see Erik Lehnsherr doing his best to distance himself. _From what? From me? We're just friends who sometimes have to share the same gritty motel bed, what's wrong with that?_

 

Sadly, as much as he tried to not dwell on the unfamiliar and unpleasant thoughts and scenarios bounding through his brain, they were still there, after a large and cheap glass of whiskey and some less then delicious diner food. Erik hadn't talked all throughout the meal- but interestingly enough, he didn't seem angry, just deep in thought.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” asked Charles, concentrating on the silver-gray of his friend's eyes instead of the neon-lit diner, which was starting to spin about him.

 

“Just thinking of ways to kill Shaw.”

 

“Why do you want to kill him?” asked Charles.

 

“You're the telepath, you tell me.”

 

“I'm not going in your head, Erik.” _I'm afraid of what I would find._

 

“You should be.”

 

_But I don't want to be._

 

Erik fell silent after that, staring at the wall. “Let's go back to the motel,” he finally managed. Charles nodded, leaving money for the bill and grabbing his sweater. They walked out into the cool dark of night, Charles pondering over his thoughts.

 

It was late that night when the next words were exchanged between them. Erik was in the shower and Charles was standing, facing the one bed with apprehension. He finally found his legs and walked forward, lying down on one side of the bed and pulling the covers up over himself. He closed his eyes and was very nearly asleep when he heard footsteps padding towards the bed. A loud sigh, a dip in the bed, a hint of musk and damp skin very nearly touching Charles'. It was very nearly enough to make Charles open his eyes, but he kept them closed. He felt a hand squeeze his hand, and a soft: “Goodnight, Charles.”

 

It was the last thing he heard before drifting into sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
